HandsOn
by Smallvillian
Summary: You'll have to read to find out... :) It's short but sweet. Come on. You know you want to. ;)


Hands-On  
Author: Smallvillian  
AN: Thanks to Renee for pointing out my goofs :)

The warm afternoon sun shone over the green spring grass, wild flowers springing forth and stretching skyward. It was a beautiful Saturday, the best Martha could recall in a while. So why she and Jonathan were spending any of it washing his truck, she really had no idea. Idly, she picked one of the bright blue buds that grew at the steps of the Kent house and twirled it between her two fingers as she sat. Beads of perspiration slipped down her front and soaked into the yellow cotton fabric of her sleeveless shirt as she slipped a lock of dark red hair behind her ear, looking bored.

"It's not as bad as all that, is it?"

Martha looked up and watched Jonathan walking with a sloshing bucket at his side, muscles more defined under the strain of the weight he carried, and smiled appreciatively. Maybe washing trucks wasn't so bad after all.

"I don't know, it's a beautiful day. I just thought we'd spend the afternoon a little differently," she answered thoughtfully, unable to hide some of her disappointment, then dropped the small flower she held into the grass.

Jonathan set the bucket at his feet and more water sloshed from the sides. "Oh, I see."

The way he'd said it--in that happy "You're so cute but so misguided " sort of way-- roused her interest and raised an eyebrow.

"You've never actually washed a car, have you?"

That her father usually had someone else take care of that particular chore seemed too snobbish to actually admit, and she didn't want to seem like the chore was somehow beneath her, if that's what he thought. "No. No, that's not it at all. I only meant..."

He began laughing before she could finish explaining herself . "It's okay, Martha. I gathered as much when I said the truck needed to be washed and you said you didn't think Smallville had a decent carwash." He had a big silly grin on his face, and the blush in her cheeks spread all the way down to her chest and beyond.

When she avoided looking up at him, he must have realized she thought he'd been laughing at and not with her, and his tone became more affectionate as he walked over and sat beside her. "You've missed out on quite an experience, I must say."

She was hot and the tag in her shirt was beginning to itch. She rubbed at the back of her neck to try to soothe it. The next look she gave him told him how convinced she wasn't and just how uninterested she was. "Somehow, I doubt it."

"Skeptic."

But the playful warmth of his comment finally turned her head. She eyed him dubiously, and he smiled bigger as he stood and wiped his hands on the front of his jeans. "Come on, you can help me."

"So I'm washing your truck now. You're so gallant." She was equally teasing but not without a distinct air of cynicism. Couldn't have him thinking that charm actually worked, after all. At least not all the time.

He took her hand and gave it a tug and she reluctantly got to her feet and followed. When they reached the truck, Jonathan bent down and grabbed the sponge in the bucket, took her hand, turned it over, and placed the sponge in her palm.

"I'm all a-tingle," she mumbled, but laughed a little despite herself. As soon she'd said the words, she felt his body against hers, one arm around her waist and the other over her right hand guiding it over the hood in slow circles.

"So this is a hands-on lesson, then?"

She still tried to sound unaffected, but the smile in her voice and the slight upward turn at the corners of her mouth said differently.

"They say that's the best way to learn," he said low into her ear.

"Somehow I don't think this is what they had in mind." Her breath caught when he breathed over the skin of her neck and smiled at her reaction. "Besides I..." She swallowed as he pressed a soft kiss where his breath had been. "I'm pretty sure I understand. Soap. Water. Rub. --the truck," she added quickly. At his soft chuckle, she blushed again, a deeper red.

"Oh, I'm afraid it's not that simple," he said, still smiling. "You see, to do a thorough job, you have to take your time, be attentive...to the truck," he carefully amended, now sounding gravely serious about the matter.

"Of course," she agreed, allowing some of her weight to settle against him, as though she was giving her permission for something rather than simply coming to a general consensus.

His large, rough hand gave a squeeze over hers; water gushed from the sponge and spattered onto the ground, soaking her sandal-clad feet. The cold, unexpected sensation made her jump, and she inhaled sharply.

"Oops," he said sheepishly, releasing some of his hold and looking down over her shoulder at her wet feet. "Those weren't new, were they?"

The break in the mood yanked her out of the muddled haze and back to her own skin. "Not really." Even though she just bought them last week. "You know," she said, leaning back and allowing him to support her in his arms again,"It's true, I haven't washed a car before, but...as much fun as it's been...I was thinking about doing something else."

"Like what?" he asked, honestly perplexed and a little disappointed, which only made his reaction that much more enjoyable when she bent down, scooped up a handful of bubbles in her free hand, turned, and blew it playfully in his face.

Now he was grinning like a fool.

"Well," she said, studying him with a meticulous eye--jeans, a very form-fitting gray t-shirt, and a sweaty farmer didn't completely meet with her approval as her gaze roamed over them. "For someone so keen on cleanliness I think you've missed a few spots here." She trailed a finger from the neckline of his shirt to his leather belt.

"Have I?" He whispered huskily, and stepped closer.

"I'm afraid so. But I'll have to take a closer look to be sure," she murmured, crossing her arms around his neck, one hand still holding the sponge, and drawing him down to her for a long and heated kiss. As they settled more easily into each other, he pressed her closer and her grip tightened around him. Cool water from the sponge she'd long forgotten poured down the his curve of his back and soaked into the thin, cotton shirt to his jeans. His body and mouth quivered as he sucked in a breath--perhaps not entirely from the coldness of the water.

"Ooops," she breathed, grinning up at him.

His eyes were still drowsy with want as a quiet laugh rolled through his shoulders. "Oh, you're gonna pay for that one, woman."

"It was purely accidental, honest," she said, innocently blinking her lashes at him, knowing it was, but more than willing to let him think otherwise if it meant extending their little game.

His smile turned to a wicked, predatory grin, and before he could retaliate, she ducked out of his arms and took off running. "Hey!" he called after her, not far behind. "You can run but you can't hide!"

Losing sight of her around the side of the barn, he slowed to a light jog and then to a walk, and stopped for a minute. "Martha Clark, I know this farm like the back of my hand," he warned and took another step.

Just as a blast of water hit him fully in the back.

He stood dripping, turned around, shook the water from his arms and hands and looked up at her, a feral gleam in his eye. "Oohohohoho. You just made a big mistake."

Hose at the ready, she started to back away as he moved forward, undaunted by her threatening posture. "I missed a spot..." she said, almost apologetically, then dropped the hose and ran, screeching and giggling, all the way back to the truck, using it as a shield.

"Nothing can save you now!" he announced, chasing her from one side of the truck to the other. At one point, he tried tossing the bucket of suds in her direction and narrowly missed.

Her sides hurt from exertion and laughter, but still, she tried valiantly to escape, making a break for the barn again. Nearly back to the hose, she slipped on the slick grass where the water still ran, leaving a mushy mess where she fell with a splat.

Jonathan jogged up and, to his credit, wasn't laughing. "Oh my," he said, staring down at her in the mud. "I think you, uh, missed another spot there." He hadn't quite managed to keep the triumphant glee out of his response. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she sighed dejectedly, slapping at the puddle of water next to her. "Could you help me up?"

Ever the gentleman, he leaned over, reached his hand out, and took hers. By the time he'd realized what was happening, it was too late.

Taking advantage of his position, she jerked him forward, forcing his feet out from under him, and sending him tumbling into the mud beside her.

"Oh," she said sadly, pouting at the sight of his dirtied knees and mud-spattered face . "I think we're going to need the hose again."

Before she could grab it, he crawled over her, a knee on either side of her, and pinned her hands easily over her head. "No you don't," he laughed. "I've got you now."

"What do you plan on doing with me?" she asked suggestively, her expression suddenly becoming serious. She stopped fighting him and looked steadily into his eyes, waiting for a response.

In the space of less than half a second, his laughter died. He swallowed visibly and loosened his grip. Her arms came around his neck and she smiled.

Maybe they could wash the truck tomorrow, too.

The End

AN: Response to a fic challenge--write about Martha, Jonathan, a bucket, hose, and soap.

Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
